


see me

by cosettefauchelevents



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, fun fact: this was the first poldark fic i ever wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosettefauchelevents/pseuds/cosettefauchelevents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And yet he still doesn’t love her, and she loves him more than breathing, and she’s scared he doesn’t see that.<br/>companion piece to 'i see you'</p>
            </blockquote>





	see me

“Demelza sings”

Oh, how she wants to shout at him then, wants to flee the room as fast as she can, because how can she sing in that room full of fine lords and ladies, after Elizabeth had been so refined and elegant on the harp? How could he be anything but ashamed of her, after she’d opened her common-as-muck mouth and embarrassed them?

At first she thinks she could get out of it, laugh and demur with a ladylike shake of her head, but then Ruth bloody high and mighty Teague joins in, and she’s honestly considering running right then and there. Then she looks at Ross, and he smiles and mouths encouragement at her, his eyebrows quirking up in the way they only do for her, and just then she thinks she could do anything he wishes.

Elizabeth gestures her over, smiling: lovely, kind, beautiful Elizabeth, who treats her far better than she deserves and who Ross is probably still in love with, and Demelza’s heart breaks.

She remembers his touch on her skin, his lips on hers and his voice in her ears, and suddenly it’s as if a dam has broken.

She plucks a string on the harp gently, so scared of breaking something which probably costs more than the house she lived in as a child, and takes a breath.

Fear wells up in her throat like thick, hot tea, and as she looks up she thinks she might faint. _For Ross_ , she tells herself. _Do this one thing for him._

“I’d a pluck a fair rose for my love, I’d a pluck a red rose blowing”

She grips the back of Verity’s chair, the wood underneath her fingers as solid and strong as she wills herself to be. She feels, rather than sees Ross’s eyes on her, and as she slowly lifts her head she sees him staring at her, his gaze scorching.

_What must they think of me?_ she thinks, trying to keep going. _A servant girl with a servant’s song._

Ross’s eyes catch on hers, and she doesn’t care what they think of her.

Flowers at Nampara, the sun on her hair and his hands on her waist as they stand by the cliff, his smile when he sees her in the morning and the taste of his name on her lips, the way he’s so incredibly strong but holds her like she’s made of glass, like he’s afraid to bruise her.

And yet he still doesn’t love her, and she loves him more than breathing, and she’s scared he doesn’t see that.

All the hurt she’s been holding back these past few months floods over her like a river bursting its banks, and she can’t live like this any longer, can’t live with this fading cornflower love, can’t live without this broken, righteous, jesting miracle of a man.

_Please, Ross._

“I’d a pluck a finger bleeding”

_See me._

Their eyes are locked, and she’s never seen him look like that before, like all the air’s gone from the room. Like they’re the only two people in the world.

Her heart hammers like a drum and the air is crushing her, and still all she can do is stare and sing, praying that he’ll hear her.

“Wi’ your heart mating”

They’re all applauding but the only reaction she cares about is his, her Ross, her husband, her sin and her redemption, pleading with him to see her heart, see how it breaks for him.

Despite the fancy dress, she suddenly feels as naked with his eyes on her as the day she was born, as if all the walls between them have suddenly crumbled.

His face splits open into a smile she knows as well as the ground beneath her feet, his eyes still caught on hers like ships on an anchor, and she thinks, just for a moment, that he’s seen her.

And because she’s his, his wife, his Demelza, his servant, that’s enough.


End file.
